The Giver: Chapter 24
by porpierita
Summary: The Giver written by Lois Lowry. Oneshot. The epilogue to the book. About what happens when Jonas has released all the memories upon the community and what happens. Fiona and Asher also there. Please read. Reviews greatly appreciated and are always replie


**A/N: This was originally done for a school project, but it was a nice oneshot, so I decided to write it (shrug) It's about what happens when the memories are released upon the Community ;)**

It was a calm, peaceful night. The Giver stood by his window, gazing up at the sky, where the glowing sunset irradiated the whole Community's buildings. Of course, being The Giver, he saw streaks of colour. The reds, oranges, pinks, and strands of the blue, azure sky. The serenity of it all disrupted him. How could they all live in blindness of a world so tantalizingly colourful? How could they be so ignorant of such beauty? The others would only see gray. The sun would be a whitish orb, the sky a dull tone. He hadn't given all his memories to Jonas—not really. He had been too scared, scared of letting go of all the enchanting sights. They ensnared his mind with happiness he had never felt, lifting his heart as pure joy would erupt in his chest, blossoming out like a rose in full bloom. Then regretfully, it would vanish, and the gray blackness would slide over again, engulfing and sheilding the whole world and its beauty. For that, he hated the Community; they had taken everything from him: his life, his pleasure, and his Rosemary. He blamed them for her loss, because that was the only thing he could do other than blame the true person guilty for her death: himself.

The sun sank below the horizon, and the day slid into night. Within a few hours, the dark midnight sky was lit by the full moon, glowing, it's pale, sickly aura illuminating everything in a pasty sheen. He could see that the surface of the orb had no texture, no gray colours blotching its face, not like in the memories of the past.

_It's bound to be any time now, _he thought to himself. _He's left for so long. They're bound to come._ But they did not, at least, not yet…

Midnight passed, until it was only a few hours before the sun rose again. The Giver felt something grow across the sky. Simultaneously, something tweaked and nudged his mind, forcing its way inside. The silence in the night was deafening. Everything was still, excluding the black substance still moving slowly across the upper atmosphere. It continued to stretch, traversing across the moon, blacking it out eventually. The whole Community was dipped into darkness. Nothing could be seen, but yet, The Giver could sense horror awakening upon the the people. He could sense the sheer terror as it tore inside every being it reached, as every memory consumed up the body and conscious hungrily. Of course, the good memories would come after, since they were released in a backwards order. Jonas, having the cruel memories after, would release the happy memories last, ones that would fill the minds of the citizens with a terrible joy. They would experience the one time for awe and wonder, and feel it being torn away from them.

_They deserve it,_ The Giver thought shamelessly, as he let the feeling rush through him. A memory swept by. One that entered his mind quickly, him having received it before.

He was sitting alone, over a dark shape in the slightly moonlit night, not unlike the one in reality. In his hand, a knife was clutched, where a scarlet liquid dripped constantly from the silver blade, glistening in the sliver of ghostly light. A pool of the _blood_, he realised, was puddled near his feet. Crouching down, he moved the form aside to take a look at what it was. A face swam into view, it's eyes still open in shock and horror, and it's mouth agape. Long, blonde hair streaked the face of the person, matted, dripping with blood. A madness stirred up in him, making him strike again, down, upon the arm of the victim. Warm blood spluttered all over his hands; it flowed out of the wound, and what was left of the limp, now a mere stump. He could smell the stench of garbage nearby, but also the horrid smell of fresh blood as it spilled out from within. But the crimson liquid stained his hands, stranding, caging, contaminating him with the crime he'd commited. He felt pleasure rush through him…then pain. Revenge, then guilt. But behind that, there was an collosal emotion, and again, he learnt the word: _satisfaction._

Asher ran whilst the memory chased him. It was a dull black cloud of smoke, and it swooped down upon him. His mind changed, as the subconcious registered the thought that had somehow entered him, whilst his conscious continued to stumble along the straight pathway, next to The House of Old. Somehow, he remembered something that wasn't his, a memory, held within that ball of gas.

He was sprinting through a solemn landscape, where dilapidated buildings lay all around; rubble, debris, and shrapnel littering the atmosphere. Then something loud sounded far away, and he felt himself being thrown forward. Asher fell flat on his face, his hands scraping the gravelled ground. He turned around, and a white-hot light burned his eyes. Something was flowering out far away, increasing in size, and destroying another several buildings. Then it glowed brighter than ever, once more, before vanishing and consuming everything up in a flash. The structures were left bare, and they collapsed upon themselves. Bodies of people lay all around him, lifeless, still. He learnt a word: _death._

Then the first shock of pain was sent through him. He felt it burn his very skin, and every fibre in his body. The wave surged through him, destroying everything in its path. His form felt like as if it was on _fire._ His muscles ached with it, the feeling so terrible, so hot, it felt almost cold; and so cold, it felt ablaze. The seizures and waves of pain stopped, tweaking and decreasing in frequency and concentration, until it was only a constant surge. He lay, panting, whilst the place around him burned with the fire. Closing his eyes, his conscious started to slip away, as his eyelids drooped achingly. Slowly, he let go of the memory, and awoke back to reality, his hands clutching his head, on the street near The House of Old.

Fiona didn't run. Instead, she stared at the strange bubble ahead, as it floated towards her. Many small ones were in front, and as each entered her mind, she experienced a new word. _Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo,_ and then _Violet_. When they vanished, she would see the whole Community in a different structure. It was…unfamiliar. There were _colours._ Things which added life to the forms and beings of everything. Then finally, the largest bubble of all, now smeared with rainbow tones and colours, entered her mind. This was the only colourful one around. All the rest that were swooping in the vicinity were gray, black, or shades. No colours.

_I must be lucky,_ she thought, to have the only friendly-looking dream. She closed her eyes willingly, and then opened them in the trance, to find herself staring up at a pale sky, with cotton-like clouds. It had just finished _drizzling_, and a ray of golden sunlight beamed across the sky, down upon the soft green grass, upon which she was sat. Then, suddenly, something appeared along the vapours of water all around her. She learnt the word…_rainbow._ It had all the colours of the _spectrum,_ as she aquired. It was so calm, so peaceful, so serene. And for a moment, Fiona stared up above, wishing and thanking the _angels_ for bringing this memory down upon her.

The Giver let the memory consume him. It left him bare and ridden as it ended. He recalled it…all the feelings, until he was so desperate to get rid of them again. Opening his eyes, the old man found himself on the doorstep of a house. He must have wandered outside whilst he had felt the memory. His hands were shaking, and his face was lined, aged, and withered beyond recognition. Further onwards, he saw black memories enter people…then the spasms of sadness swelled through the citizens, and all the memories disappeared. They were gone. He dropped to his knees.

"Forgive me," he whispered solemnly, staring up into the sky, where dawn was approaching, and all the colours were visible above the rising sun. Half the sky was still dark with the night, whilst the other was the morning approaching soon, to a different Community. Then, all of a sudden, he felt another memory—an opposite one to the previous—touching his mind. He let it enter…but in his conscious state, he saw in reality, auroras twinkling on the dark side of day, holding more memories. And finally The Giver felt contentment spread through him as he fell to the ground, whilst the happy memories descended down upon the Community once more.

**A/N: I know it sucks. No need to tell me. Ah well, who cares, it was for school anyways…**

**Even though it was bad, please review!**


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